


Just Across The Way

by lewisandharold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bakery!AU, Flowerchild!Harry, M/M, Punk!Louis, idk this is my first fic post???, record store!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lewisandharold/pseuds/lewisandharold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Punk!Louis works in a record store across the street from Flowerchild!Harry, who works in a bakery. Sappy stuff happens, and there is a change of heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> wow so hi this is my first post on here and idk what im doing??? i hope you like this!

     Louis took a deep breath. With a muttered curse, he plunged the needle through his left nostril. He had pierced his other nostril a few days back, but the asymmetry bothered him. In the end, he said ‘fuck it’ and decided to have both pierced. A little voice in the back of his mind told him that he should probably go to a professional to have this done, but the whole ‘fuck it’ mentality came into play again; so there he was, standing in his bathroom with watery eyes and yet another hole in his face. He wasted no time in threading the stud into the needle and through the piercing, thanking himself for investing in the proper supplies. When he was done, he leaned back to admire his work. Louis tilted his head this way and that, squinting his eyes to make sure the alignment was just right, and it was. Good job Tomlinson, you did something right.

     “Hey, asshole, are you ever coming out? I need to piss!” Niall said as he pounded on the door.

     “Yeah, yeah, just give me a fucking minute, will ya?” Louis shook his head and straightened his clothes. He picked at his hair to ensure his dyed black fringe was lying correctly and then pulled the door open with gusto and a mock scowl at his flat-mate. Niall scowled back playfully.

     “Christ is took you long enough—wait, something’s different,” Niall leaned closer to inspect his friend’s face. “Did you just pierce the other side of your nose?”

     “Yep.”

     “Just now, while I was waiting?” The blonde questioned in disbelief.

     “Yep,” Louis repeated with a proud grin.

     “You were supposed to let me watch!” Niall turned to shout down the hall, “Hey Zayn! This wanker just pierced his nose and didn’t let me see!”

      Zayn popped his head around the corner and smiled, ignoring Niall’s obvious irritation, “Hey that’s bad ass, mate, good for you.” Niall scoffed and mumbled something under his breath. Louis simply grinned and tugged on his friend’s ear gauge, earning a surprised yelp, and shuffled back to his room.

     There were dirty clothes all over the floor and really, Louis was way past due for doing laundry. He sighed and started sorting items by smell. Those pants are clean, why are they on the floor? Sure, he can wear that again. That shirt could go either way. Damn, that needs to be washed. And holy shit something might have died in this hoodie. He grabbed the things he absolutely needed and tossed them in a laundry bag before making his way out to the living room.

     Zayn was sitting at the kitchen table drawing something. “Do you have any quarters?” he asked. Zayn barely glanced at him but shook his head. Well, shit. He would have to stop and get change somewhere, then.

     Louis sighed and stumbled out of the flat, wobbling his way down four flights of stairs with his overstuffed bag on his back. He walked the six blocks to his usual Laundromat, and was a bit short of breath by the time he pushed on the door. Being met with a solid force had him stumbling backwards. It was then that he noticed the sign behind the glass. Sorry, we’re closed for maintenance. Son of a bitch. Was there even another place he could do his washing nearby? Louis dropped to the ground and leaned against the wall with his knees bent as he took out his phone. God, the pants he was wearing are really too tight for sitting down like this. But he was exhausted and needed a break while he Google’d another place to go. There was a Smith’s Washing Bucket a few blocks around the corner, pretty reasonable. He doubted it would be dirt cheap like where he usually went, but there wasn’t really room to argue.

     The directions he got lead him to a little hole in the wall establishment that had definitely seen better days. It would do. There was a record store tucked in beside it. Maybe he could have a look while he waited for his clothes. Louis had all of his stuff loaded into a washer when he realized he forgot to get change on his way. He played with his lip ring, contemplating whether he should bring the clothes with him to get change or leave them. But, wait; there was a small bakery just across the road. Perfect.

     Louis turned to an elderly lady with long silver hair, who appeared to be entranced by a spin cycle, “I’ll give you five bucks to watch my stuff.” The woman smiled at him and made some vague gesture with her hands. Louis took it as an agreement.

     He jogged across the road, dodging cars. Because real men jay-walk. When he pushed open the door to the bakery, his eyes widened. Somebody bending over behind the counter was giving him a spectacular look at their bum, and their legs went on for miles. He was still staring when the person stood up and greeted him. It was attractive young lad, but hold on; is that a fucking flower crown on his head? Was he some kind of hippy? Maybe he’s one of those nature-loving, granola types. But he was wearing perfectly normal clothes that didn’t appear to be made of a weird fabric like bamboo or something. What was up with this guy?

     “Good afternoon. Can I get you anything?” Louis blinked a couple times because, damn, that boy had a voice that was slow like honey and warm like the summer sun. It was nice. And wow, was Louis still staring? The boy only smiled wider under his gaze. Fuck, he has a dimple.

     “I just need change for a five. All quarters,” Louis stated, sliding the bill across the counter. They boy took it and winked, nodding his head. Louis leaned in closer to read his nametag. Harry. Fitting, he supposed, because there was a brown, curly mop situated on Harry’s head. It looked soft, though. Like maybe Louis would like to run his fingers through it. But of course, that wouldn’t be possible because he was wearing that stupid crown of daisies on his head.

     “So what’s with the flowers, then, uh, Harry?” Louis asked bluntly. He was usually a bit more eloquent, but he had clothes waiting for him in the washer and he was just really curious.

     Harry smiled at the mention of his name, and leveled his gaze at Louis. “I like them,” he said.

     Louis stared blankly. “That’s it?”

     “Yeah.”

     Louis shook his head and gave Harry another once-over, raising an eyebrow. Maybe this kid was stranger than he thought. “You don’t think it’s weird to just go around with flowers in your hair?”

     “No,” Harry chuckled. “You don’t think it’s weird to go around with ink on your skin and bits of metal in your face?” Louis smiled despite the jab and stuck his tongue out. Harry raised his eyebrows and tacked on, “And in your tongue, too, apparently?”

     “Do you have something against piercings and tattoos, mister, uh..?”

     “Styles. I’m Harry Styles. No, I don’t. Do you have anything against flowers, mister..?”

     Louis laughed, “My name is Louis Tomlinson. And touché. Has anybody ever told you that you have a porn-star name, Harry?” The boy didn’t bat an eye at his vulgarity. Perhaps he was less innocent that Louis first suspected.

     “Not until you did. But thanks, I guess.” Harry handed over Louis’ quarters, brushing his finger tips. Did Louis imagine that there was a spark where they touched? “Will that be all for you today?” Harry asked. Louis sucked his lip into his mouth and tongued at his lip ring. He really should get back to his laundry. But Curly was looking at him in this certain way and that made him want to stay. Fuck it.

     “Well, maybe I’ll get something. Just give me a second, I’ll be right back.” Louis said, backing out the door. He walked back to the Laundromat and started a wash cycle, nodding his thanks to the woman that had watched his clothes. She made another vague gesture and stared at a dryer tumbling a load of colors.

     Louis pushed back into the bakery and was met with a bright smile from the boy. God he had a nice smile. Good teeth. And soft pink lips that just looked kissable. “So, what do you recommend, Curly?” He asked, glancing at the display case. There were all kinds of treats lined up, so Louis wasn’t just asking because he wanted something to say. He really couldn’t decide what he wanted. Really.

     “I dig the nick-name. I am rather curly,” Harry said, and wait, was he blushing? Louis thought he was. “I personally love the chocolate cupcakes. Although, the scones are good too…” Harry drifted off. Louis was just about to answer when he continued, “Then again, I do like the blueberry muffins.” Louis opened his mouth again, “but, I also have some cinnamon buns that are just about ready to be taken out of the oven.” Louis leaned forward in anticipation, thinking he was going to continue again. Harry looked up from the case and rested his elbows on the counter.

     “One cinnamon bun, please,” Louis said. Harry gave a little salute and walked behind the curtain that must have lead to the kitchen. There were flour smudges on the sides of his tight black skinny jeans, as if he had been baking and couldn’t be bothered to use a towel. It was strangely endearing. Louis waited for him to come back, picking at the black polish that was wearing off his nails.

     There was a bang behind the curtain and he heard a stifled bugger in that sticky-sweet voice he was coming to enjoy. Something clattered to the ground and Louis heard a groan. “Everything alright back there?” he asked warily.

     “Erm, yes. Well, no. Hold on,” Harry answered. When Louis heard a moist plop and another pseudo-curse, he wondered if he should do something to help. Probably he should. Maybe he would get brownie points, both literal (because the actual brownies looked good) and figurative (because Harry looked good), if he leant a hand. Fuck it, he was going back there.

     When he pulled the curtain aside tentatively, he saw Harry with his shirt caught in the oven and his hands full with a baking sheet. There were cooling racks littering the ground and Louis couldn’t help but laugh. He just looked so frazzled and the daisies were falling to one side on his head and a cinnamon bun had fallen onto his shoe. Harry looked up with wide eyes when he heard Louis laughing and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He gave a sheepish smile. This kid was all kinds of smooth.

     “Oops. Um…”

     “Hi. Want a hand with that?” Louis asked, nodding to the oven.

     “That’d be great, thanks.” Louis walked over and unlatched the oven door, releasing Harry. He picked up one of the cooling racks from the floor and placed it on a nearby counter. Harry set the hot pan down and sighed, “Sorry about that, I’m not usually so clumsy.” Louis raised his eyebrows. “Alright, so maybe I am,” Harry corrected, inspecting the corner of his shirt that was scorched.

     Louis smirked, “that’s alright, Curly, I would be clumsy too if I had stupidly long limbs like you.” Harry simply giggled and dished up a cinnamon bun. “But, if you want to thank me properly, you should sit with me while I eat this.” Wow, that was actually a really poor attempt of flirtation. Harry probably got people hitting on him all that time, what with his pretty face. Louis was determined not to be surprised by a rejection.

     “Sure, sure,” he said, putting a bun on a plate for himself. Hell yeah. They sat at a little table near the counter.

     “How old are you anyway, Styles?” Louis asked. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so forward.

     “Eighteen, and yourself?”

     “I’m twenty.” Well it looks like forward doesn’t bother Harry. Maybe he should be more forward.

     “Can I take you out some time?” Harry’s eyes grew big enough to rival the moon itself, but his green irises darkened just before he fixed his gaze on his fidgeting hands. Shit. Too forward.

     Louis saw a smile grow on the younger boy’s face and felt something like hope grow in his chest. Harry met his eyes, “I think that would be okay, yeah.” Louis beamed back at him. Perhaps he was just forward enough.

     Suddenly the timer on his phone went off, signaling that his clothes were dry. “I have to go. Give me your number. We can go out this Friday if you’re free?”

     “Sounds great,” Harry said, tapping his number into Louis’ phone.

     Louis captured one last look at Harry through the window as he walked out of the bakery. There was a dreamy expression on the boy’s face as he straightened his daisies, and he saw his cheeks tint pink as they made eye contact. Maybe this kid was alright. Or more that alright.

     Just as he was making his way out of the Laundromat, Louis noticed a Help Wanted sign in the window of the record store. Interesting. Just as he was standing outside contemplating whether to go in or back to the Laundromat, a family walked past and he heard the mother make a comment under her breath. Look at this little queer little delinquent. I hope my kids never end up like that. Louis clenched his fists and stared the woman down. She stuck her nose in the air and yanked her daughter closer to her body. The little girl stared up at him with big doe eyes, taking in his tight black shirt and red jeans. He smiled at her as best as he could, but she still cowered away.

     Louis was so fucking sick of shit like that happening. Honestly. He had four little sisters and had never been on the wrong side of the law. He didn’t hit his partners. He took in stray animals. At yet people still looked at him like he was gum stuck on their shoes.

     He leaned against the window of the record store and took out a cigarette, allowing his irritation to fester. Out of the corner of his eye, the door to the shop opened, and a young man about his age came walking out with a sigh. He didn’t look like the type to be in a record store. He wasn’t punk or hipster or much of anything, really. He was just wearing jeans with a red-sleeved baseball shirt, and standing there scratching his short hair absently. And he looked kind of stressed.

     “You look like you could use a smoke, mate,” Louis said to him. He turned around like he hadn’t realized Louis’ presence.

     “Oh. Hey, thanks, but I don’t smoke.”

     “Maybe you should start. You look like you’re a mess,” he said with a smile. The boy chuckled and offered his hand.

     “I’m Liam. Do you have a job?” he asked. What an odd question from a stranger.

     “Yeah, but it’s shit. Why?”

     “I could really use some help around my store. I’m trying to reorganize and I’ve had to fire all the other employees for being idiots,” he said. Seriously? What kind of freak goes around offering jobs to random people they meet on the street? Louis supposed he was planning on applying for a job anyway, but still.

     Louis raised one eyebrow, “How do you know I’m not going to rob you blind? Or murder you, or something?” Liam thought hard for a moment.

     “I guess I don’t know. But you have kind eyes.” Fuck, this guy was weird.

     “Whatever you say. But yeah, I would actually love to work here.”

     Liam clapped his hands together, “Brilliant! Let’s get started!”

     Okay, so apparently Louis had a new job. At a record store. Right across the street from flower boy. It was like fate or some shit.

 


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Punk!Louis works in a record store across the street from Flowerchild!Harry, who works in a bakery. Sappy stuff happens, and there is a change of heart.

     The next day, Louis strolled into the bakery on his lunch break wearing his favorite outfit and feeling confident. He might have heard Harry’s breath catch as he sauntered up to the counter and waited to be greeted.

     “Hi, Louis. You’re not here to cancel our date Friday, are you?” Harry asked, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes.

     “What? No, of course not,” he answered, genuinely confused. Did he give off the ‘I cancel dates’ vibe?

     “Okay, good,” Harry said, relaxing into a slouch, “I was actually legitimately worried for a moment.”

     Louis laughed, “No worries, I couldn’t cancel on anybody with a face as nice as yours.” And so what if he said that specifically to make Harry blush. Sue him. Harry fumbled over his own fingers as he cut two slices of lemon cake and put them on plates. Apparently he didn’t have a response to the complement, then.

     “So we’re neighbors, now,” Louis announced.

     “Is that so?” Harry asked, pushing a plate to Louis.

     “Yeah, I got a job at the record store across the street,” He replied, digging in his pocket for his wallet, ready to pay for the lemon cake.

     Harry refused the cash pushed his way, “that’s great, Louis! Well then that means you don’t have to pay, since you’re working for Liam now. He and I have a bit of arrangement, so he’ll pick up the tab.” Louis paused with a bite of cake halfway to his mouth. Well, well, well. An ‘arrangement’. It looks like little Harry has a dark side. Harry seemed to realize what he said and shook his head, “wait, no, not like that. He gets all the baked goods he wants from me, and I get all the music I want from him.” Oh, okay. Good. “Yeah me and Liam go way back, we grew up on the same street.”

     “And now you work on the same street?”

     “Yeah. Dumb luck I suppose.” Harry smiled at him from across the counter. Ugh there was that dimple again. It shouldn’t make Louis’ heart flutter, but it did and Louis had to restrain his own hand from slapping himself.

 

\--------------------------------

 

     “Does this look alright?” Louis asked, parading around the living room in a new outfit for the fifth time.

     “Yep, looks great, Lou,” Zayn replied, without looking up, for the fifth time.

     “Zayn you didn’t even look! Help me out, man, I’m dying over here,” Louis whined, flopping over the back of the couch and draping himself on Zayn’s shoulders.

     Zayn sighed and set down the book he was reading. Louis thought it was a book of poetry of some shit like that. “It’s your date with that flower guy tonight, yeah?” Louis nodded. “Well what’s the big deal? You’ve been on loads of dates before. What’s so special about this guy?”

     Louis huffed into Zayn’s neck and tried to figure out how to put it. In all honesty, he didn’t know what was so special about Harry. Everything about him was special and unique, but at the same time he might be hard to pull out of a crowd because he just seemed to fit everywhere he went. He was the type of person who just belonged and he made Louis feel like he himself fit in as well. But Louis couldn’t express this to Zayn, so he settled on, “He’s just so pretty, you know?”

     “Actually, I don’t know. You haven’t brought him around yet,” Zayn said.

     “Right. Well assuming everything goes to plan, you should be seeing him soon enough.”

     “Plan? What plan?”

     “Well to seduce him, of course. But that can't happen unless you tell me whether or not you like my fucking outfit.”

     “Alright fine, let’s have a look at you,” Zayn said, nudging Louis off his shoulders and pulling him around the couch. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with,” he said, stroking the stubble on his chin and cocking an eyebrow. “Tight red skinnies, good. I like the rolled cuff with the black vans. Nice shirt, the basic black v-neck is always a solid choice, especially with checkered braces. And you chose the ear plugs with the swallows on them, that’s badass,” Zayn nodded his head with finality. “You look great,” he said.

     “Louis let out a deep breath and allowed his shoulders to slump a bit, “Thanks, Zayn.” His friend simply smiled and moved to hug him.

     “Your date is going to be perfect, don’t even worry, alright?”

     “Okay,” Louis pulled away from Zayn and checked his phone for the time. “Fuck, I’m late! Bye mate, see you later!” He grabbed a black hoodie and sped out the door. Louis tripped, (count ‘em) once, twice, three times coming down the stairs before his shoes finally hit the pavement and he was on his way to the bus stop. It was pretty fucking lame to have to take the bus to pick up a date, but Louis really didn’t care to ask if he could borrow Niall’s car. There was always rotting fast food in the back seat and that sort of thing that really killed the mood on a date. Besides, he could play up the whole, ‘let’s go for a romantic walk’ angle.

     Harry’s flat was right above the bakery where he worked, and the sweet smell of pastries lingered around his front door. Louis knocked on the door four times and stepped back to straighten his clothes and sort out his hair. He snapped his braces on his chest, ouch, just as the door swung open to reveal Harry with his bright eyes and pink cheeks. “Hi Louis,” he breathed, face breaking into a wide smile. Louis admired his neat, square teeth and returned the expression.

     “Hey there, Curly. Are you ready?” he asked, pulling the younger boy into a hug. Harry seemed to melt into his embrace and he felt curls tickle his cheek as Harry shook his head. It was then that Louis noticed that mister long-limbs wasn’t wearing pants.

     “Let me just get my flowers first, I’ll be right back,” he said, rushing back into the flat. Louis peeked in where the front door was ajar and saw that the living room was freakishly tidy. He hoped the kid wasn’t a neat freak because he couldn’t deal with tidiness, no matter how much he liked someone. Harry emerged from a hallway wearing a crown of pink lilies. Damn. Louis thought he was in deep because his stomach did this irritating flippy thing and made him want to puke, but, like, in a good way. “Okay, I’m ready,” Harry announced as he grabbed his wallet off the table in the hall.

     “Are you sure about that?” Louis asked, looking pointedly at Harry’s legs. God they were delicious. He was suddenly unsure when he started using food-y adjectives to describe an actual human. But then there was Harry, furrowing his brow and tilting his head in confusion.

     “What do you mean?”

     Louis was still staring at Harry’s legs when he said, “love, although i would be happy to ogle you all night, you should probably wear pants on our date. I mean, modern society has a few ideas about acceptable public attire.” Okay, so apparently Flower Boy made his mouth go all eloquent. Zayn would be shedding a proud tear if he were there.

     Harry looked down and turned beet red. Whether it was from his pants-less state or because Louis had called him ‘love’ may never be known. Maybe a bit of both. “Right,” harry said, backing away like a frightened deer, “I’ll just... go put some on.” He didn't really invite Louis in, but he also didn’t tell him not to come in, so Louis sauntered into the flat like he owned it. Why? Because fuck it, thats why. He could hear the springs of Harry’s mattress creaking and he knew exactly what was happening down that hallway.

     Harry was probably laying down. On the bed. Writhing around. Just to try and get his tight-ass fucking pants buttoned. What a tosser. But a tosser with a nice flat that had actual heating an an actual color scheme. Looking closer, Louis found that it wasn’t as clean as he first thought. There were cup rings on the coffee table and books laid open on the armchair and shoes shoved under the couch. So, not a slob, but not a neat-nick either. That was good. Maybe it meant he wasn’t afraid to be dirty in bed either. Suddenly his head was filled with all the nasty things he wanted to do to Harry; like he could pry him out of those sinful jeans and lick--

     “Okay, now I’m really ready,” Harry began, but stopped short when he saw that the doorway was now Louis-less. He stood looking out the door and shaking his head. lust for the hell of it, Louis hid behind the couch to maybe scare Harry when he turned around. But he didn’t turn around. He hung his head like a sad fucking puppy. Sad Harry was now at the top Louis’ list of things that are terrible; right above Niall’s sweaty post-workout feet, and when Zayn looks out into the distance meaningfully after reading works by Bukowski. Louis was about to announce himself when Harry muttered to himself, “was it me? Do i smell or something?” Harry lifted his arm and sniffed his armpit and Louis swore to god he almost died laughing.

     “Louis! You’re still here! I thought you left.” Jesus fucking Christ, there he goes again with thinking he was going to be walked out on. Louis didn’t know who broke this pretty flower child’s heart, but he was suddenly determined not to do the same. Or something. He really wasn’t good at the whole “feelings” thing. But that thought sobered him up from his laughing fit. He got to his feet and straightened his clothes.

     “I wouldn’t go anywhere and leave you behind, Hazza! You’re too cute for that,” Louis said before snapping his braces and mentally apologizing to his hurt and offended nipples. “Anyway, now that you are fully clothed,” he began, dragging his eyes up and down Harry’s long, lean body, “which is very unfortunate, by the way, we can head out. Yeah?”

     “Yeah, we can,” Harry smiled, and offered his hand to Louis as they left the apartment.

\--------------------------------------

     “Hang on,” Louis said, putting up a finger to silence his date, “you are telling me that you want me to take you to get a tattoo?”

     “Yeah, if you wouldn’t mind,” Harry replied, suddenly shy. If he didn’t mind? They were sitting in in the grass at a fucking park. And Harry’s eyes were brighter than the sun that was setting right fucking in front of them. And they were sharing really fucking expensive wine and cheese. And their stomachs were still pretty full of the less than luxurious dinner they had at fucking Nando’s. It was all just really fucking perfect and Louis wanted to scream and rip out his hair and kiss the boy sitting next to him until he fucking died. So, no, he didn’t mind. Or maybe he did, but in the sense that he really wanted to watch the ink get painted on Harry’s alabaster skin in the hopes that it would always remind him of Louis. Because at the moment, everything was HarryHarryHarry  in Louis’ mind and he just wanted his feelings to be returned. And perhaps they were, because there was a flush in Harry’s cheeks his eyes were getting all scrunched and crinkly with the force of the smile he had pointed at Louis. And then those lips that Louis had been after since day one started moving to form words again. “Just, because. You know, you seem to have a lot of experience.” Um. What. That couldn’t be just about the tattoos because Harry was running a finger along the stag on Louis’ bicep and for once in his life, he had no words.

     Louis took a hefty swig of wine right from the bottle they were sharing and laid down on the grass, pulling Harry down with him. His mind was suddenly quieter with Harry’s head laying on his chest and a mop of curls tickling his chin “No, Harry, I definitely don’t mind,” he said. And if you don’t mind, I would very much like to take you back to my place.”

     Harry turned his head and at Louis. He didn’t say anything, but he got up and started gathering their things. He pulled Louis up and pecked his lips lightly before tilting his chin in the general direction they came from. The pair walked home in easy silence, but it somehow felt thick at the same time. It surrounded them like fog, but Harry’s bright eyes seemed to cut right through it like a lighthouse on an oceanside cliff when he looked over at Louis and winked. When Louis stopped Harry to kiss him under the dim light of a lantern on the unusually empty street by his house, he compared it in his head to that feeling he got when he first felt the needle of a tattoo gun touch his skin. It was sharp and unexpectedly sweet, and left a lasting impression in his flesh. It made him ache with pleasure and gag with how poetic he was slowly becoming. Seriously, his inner monologue was enough to give him cavities. Like the ones Harry was carving in his heart. No. Stop it. No more of this sappy bullshit. He could be over the moon with this lovely boy, but that did not entitle him to compare thee to a summer’s day or some shit.

     But as the silence between them dragged on and they approached Louis’ apartment, he thought maybe he could allow himself to be a romantic, if only for the night. Harry seemes to be into that sort of thing, anyway.

     They were winded by the time they reached the top of the four flights of stairs and arrived at Louis’ door. He began to say something about well this is it, home sweet home, but Harry put a finger over his lips and shook his head. He hushed him with a hiss and his mouth against Louis’ own. He understood the message and fumbled trying to get his keys in the lock with an uncharacteristic blush on his cheeks. Fucking fuck fuck. This was his plan coming (ha, coming) to fruition and here he was losing his shit like a silly little virgin. And it’s not like Harry was being obscene or anything, he was just being himself. That was what scared Louis so much: the fact that this weird, long, gangly, clumsy, breathtakingly lovely boy was so very much himself, and encouraged Louis to be himself too. And even with all of the open-ness between them, Harry wasn’t running for the hills. And that was.... New. And nice. And also more than a little scary. But fuck it.

\----------------------------------------

     The next morning, as Louis watched Harry stretch his body luxuriously and flick one of the flower petals littering the bed, he wished he could say they fucked. He wished he could say that they had countless rounds of dirty, rough sex in his bed last night. That all of the hickeys on his neck were made out of hot and heavy desperation. But none of those things would be true. There was nothing rough or dirty about what happened the night before. It was passionate and slow and smooth and a bunch of other shit Zayn probably wrote poems about. It was something Louis had never experienced.

     Watching the crown of flowers fall to pieces and form a halo around Harry’s curls was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Green eyes darkened with lust and something else, something softer and more complex, staring up at him was the most beautiful thing Louis had ever seen. The sheets riding down to reveal the endless, toned torso of the boy beside him in the morning light was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Everything that was Harry was overshadowing all of the beauty Louis had ever experienced in his lifetime. Fuck he was in deep. Maybe too deep. It wasn’t too late to get out. He could push Harry out the door and never eat cinnamon buns and lemon cake again.

     But he couldn’t. Because Harry was trying to balance a flower petal on Louis’ nose and shit just got too real to pretend his way out of it. And all he could do was smile. And Harry smiled back without even knowing why Louis was really smiling.

     “Hey, Louis?”

     “Yes, Harry.”

     “I’m really glad you got a job across the way from my bakery.”

     Louis chuckled and ran a finger along Harry’s cheek, “Yeah, me too.”

     “Now,” Harry said resolutely, sitting up, “I believe i am meant to get a tattoo today.”

\-----------------------------------

     “Wow, this really freaking hurts,” Harry said, but tried to keep his tone light. Louis laughed and held Harry’s hand tighter.

     “You know, you are a grown man, I think you can curse properly, love,” he said. Harry widened his eyes and shook his head. “Come on, just say ‘fuck’, for me.”

     “Erm, fluck?” Harry mumbled.

     “Harry, what did we do last night?” Louis asked, completely disregarding the tattoo artist who was pretending not to hear, though he probably was listening. arry glanced at him pointedly but sighed when Louis indicated he didn’t care who heard.

     “We.... made love?” Louis bristled and blushed at those words.

     “Not the term i was looking for.”

     “We... had sex?”

     “Getting warmer.”

     “We.... we..... fucked?”

     “Ding ding ding we have a winner! Congrats, I have taken your curse virginity,” Louis cheered. Harry winked and bounced his eyebrows. He silently mouthed yes, among other things. And that was. Well. Louis didn’t know how to feel about that. He was excited to make a mark on Harry, but now he felt like maybe he had taken too much while giving nothing in return. Maybe it was only right that Harry have a mark on Louis as well.

     Louis marched over to an open chair and pushed a wad of bills at the tattoo artist. He kept his voice low in hopes that Harry would not overhear, “I need a lilie and a daisy tattooed on my hip, pronto. The artist shrugged and got to work.

     Harry’s tattoo was finished before Louis’ was, and he could see the bandages poking out the top of Harry’s V-neck shirt. He could also see the marks he left on those lovely collarbones and knew that although getting a tattoo for a guy was risky, he had a feeling the permanence would not be in vain.

     “You’re getting a tattoo today too?” Harry asked as he sat down in the chair next to Louis.

     “Yeah. It’s a lilie and a daisy.”

     “Oh wow, what a co-inkie-dink, those are my favorite!” Harry said excitedly, trying to get a closer look. Holy fucking shit, Louis was in love with a boy that used the term ‘co-inkie-dink’. Wait, had he really just thought that? Love? He had only known Harry for a short time and he was using the L word. But suddenly, looking closer at the flowers nestled among chocolate curls, and the bright green eyes, Louis tongued at his lip ring and thought that yeah, maybe he could use the L word for this massive dork next to him. Because it was like fate or some shit.

     And fuck it, he was in love.

 


End file.
